


Prompts

by Elizabeethan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27028657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeethan/pseuds/Elizabeethan
Summary: A collection of prompts from tumblr
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 35
Kudos: 65





	1. Holding Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian deals with the loss of his hand for a second time

Getting his heart back was a relief. He was suddenly able to feel again— feel in the way that he should have been feeling all along.

He feels the way that Emma touches him all the way down to his toes. He feels the soft words that leave her lips against his neck; words that no one else has ever heard and that he prays no one will ever hear again. He feels the joy in finally, finally defeating the damn crocodile and living to tell the tale.

He feels a lot of good things. He also feels a lot of bad things. The failure that came with losing his heart to that demon in the first place. The dread in playing a part in his new friend losing her husband. The guilt in manipulating his love, though he didn’t have a choice.

The cold bluntness of his stunted left arm.

He had his hand, and then he lost it. He feels that loss more now than he thought he could. He barely had time to consider the implications of the loss before he forced the Dark One to remove his hand again. Before he was tricked into playing his manipulative games.

He can’t hold her, not the way he wants to.

He can no longer feel her long fingers between his own. He can no longer feel her soft golden hair resting against his palm. He can no longer stroke her sharp jaw with his thumb as he kisses her.

Feeling with his heart again now, when he finally has something to lose in loving her, is almost too much for him to bear.

“Maybe I can put it back,” she suggests, and he shakes his head against her chest as she brushes those long fingers through his hair.

“I can’t,” he replies. He doesn’t know why. He can’t get the words to come into his brain. But he knows he can’t have that feeling back and risk losing it again.

“Killian,” she says seriously, while her tone before was soft and soothing. “You know I don’t care, right? This isn’t about that, is it?”

He shakes his head again. “I could’ve,” he starts, choking on his words. “I could’ve held your hands. I wanted to hold your hands.”

She scrapes her nails along his scalp and he runs his fingers through her hair. His hook sits limply and uselessly off to the side.

“I wanted—“ he starts, but words fail him again.

She sits up and takes his hand in hers, pressing a kiss to his reddened knuckles. “I like you the way you are,” she nearly whispers, and her lips don’t leave his skin. “I know this is hard for you. I’m sorry.”

He can’t speak. Rather than trying, he squeezes his hand around both of hers before pulling her into an embrace, reveling in the feeling of her body against his.

If not the feeling of holding her right hand in his left, he still has this.


	2. Sitting on Someone's Lap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David see's Killian and Emma's relationship for what it is  
> This takes place in the It's About Bloody Time universe but for some reason I forgot to post it with the extras!! Makes much more sense if you read that series first :-)

It’s an adjustment. Seeing his daughter with the pirate, day in and day out, it’s.... well, it’s an adjustment.

But she’s so happy.

He can tell by the look on her face after dinner, with Henry sitting at the table still and he and his wife doing the dishes (like hell is he going to let Hook do them again) and his daughter and the pirate sitting on the couch.

She’s exhausted, he knows. One couldn’t tell just by looking at her how hard her body is working— how difficult it must be to grow a life from scratch— but she’s exhausted. So tired that she’s taking a step back at the station, something he never thought he’d see. David has never seen his daughter so tired that she’s practically asleep before 8. He wants to help, so badly, but he knows that he isn’t what she needs.

So, when the conversation lulls and her head starts to look heavy, the pirate wraps an arm around her and she just melts. Then, it’s as if she thinks better of it and she straightens before lifting both legs over his and resting her head against his (too-exposed) chest, his hand drifting up and down along her back until she melts again.

David wants to be angry. Anger would be so easy. He can tell that his wife agrees as she sloshes the water in the sink a bit too forcefully. The pirate is touching their daughter!

But when her breathing appears to steady, and Hook and Henry look at each other like they share a secret, Hook touches his lips to her hair with such gentle tenderness that... David’s heart swells.

She’s so happy.

It’s enough for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on tumblr @elizabeethan


	3. Piggy Back Rides & Stroking Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Killian go hiking

“Come on, Jones, we don’t have all day here.” 

They really don’t. the sun will set in less than 90 minutes, and the last thing Emma wants is to be stranded in the woods just outside of town. 

“I’m too tired, Swan. Just go on without me, I’ll catch up eventually.” 

She rolls her eyes so far into her head that she thinks she sees gray matter and whips around to face him. “Seriously? I know you always claim to be a grown man but you're acting like Henry when he’s had too much ice cream.” 

He smirks, damn him, so she turns away from him and starts walking. “Perhaps you’ll have to carry me, then, love.” 

She pauses her steps and turns to him again, giving him the best version of a death glare that she can muster while also being completely smitten with his stupid blue eyes. “Fine. Come on.” If there’s one thing that she knows about Killian Jones, it’s that he always steps up to a challenge. And if her challenging him to get on her back is going to make him move his ass, then that’s just fine. 

“Fine,” he repeats, and she knew he would take the bait. He walks up to her somewhat hesitantly, expecting her to say never mind. “I’m gonna do it,” he tells her. 

“Good, come on. I’m tired of being out here.” 

“It was your idea for a hike, darling.” 

She rolls her eyes again. “If you don’t either get on or walk faster, I’m leaving you here.” 

He takes another step towards her until he’s standing against her back, hand and hook on her shoulders, and says, “alright, love. Ready?” She knows he still doesn’t believe that she’s serious, thinking that she’ll back out at the last second. If there’s one thing that Killian Jones knows about Emma Swan, though, is that she always steps up to a challenge. 

So, when he hops up onto her back and she supports his weight for a few seconds, he starts laughing. Laughing so hard that she starts laughing, and panting, and her knees start to buckle and suddenly they're crashing. 

He yelps as she falls to the ground with him on top of her. His hand catches some of his weight so that he doesn’t flatten her completely, but it wasn’t quite enough for her to avoid the crushing mass of a fully-grown man, and her breath is forced from her lungs. 

“Bloody hell,” he breathes out, “are you alright, Swan?” She groans, and she can feel his sudden panic taking over his whole body as he lifts himself off of her and moves her hair from her face to get a better look. “Emma? What hurts, love?”

“My, my,” she starts, and his hand and hook are moving over her body rapidly as his nerves take over him. “My ego,” she snorts. 

“You bloody—” he grumbles, rolling her onto her back and tickling her mercilessly. “I thought you were injured! Why the hell did you not stop me from doing that?!”

She can’t speak, too busy laughing as he continues to wiggle his fingers over her torso. She kicks her legs gently at him and pushes his shoulders with her hands as firmly as she can, but in truth, she hopes he never stops. 

He does stop eventually, though, of course, and it’s in favor of looking longingly into her eyes and running his hand through her hair so gently that she thinks she stops breathing. 

“I knew you wouldn’t back down, and neither would I, so we both went down.” 

He chuckles, his fingers tracing patterns on her scalp. “Perhaps I’ll let you jump on my back next time, then. To make it even.” 

She reaches her head up towards him, finally, and presses a long, soft kiss to his pliable lips. “Sounds good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on tumblr @elizabeethan


	4. Hugs & Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6x5 deleted scene- Killian and Emma talk about the prophecy of the savior

The door closes more harshly than either of them intended. “Killian,” Emma says pleadingly as he makes his way towards the kitchen. “I’m sorry.”

“How can we keep doing this, Swan? We have to trust each other!”

“I do trust you!”

She knows he doesn’t mean to slam the fridge door, but it closes with the crash of the condiment bottles hitting against each other. “Not enough to tell me the truth about your fate.

“I was scared…” she responds weakly. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Emma,” he scoffs, shaking his head and moving away from her when she steps towards him. He walks to the living room and she thinks he might sit down, but instead, he paces. “I love you. I’m always worried about you, and that’s never going to change.” Emma takes a seat on the couch as he continues to stride peevishly around the room. “I’m only worried more now, because you didn’t tell me. If you had, we could have figured it out together.”

She nods somberly, looking down at her hands crossed over her lap. “We still can; I want to.”

He sits finally, although his body is still buzzing with nervous apprehension. “I’m not going to let you die. I don’t care if it’s the fate of the savior; I won’t lose you.”

She lifts a hand to his cheek, running her thumb over his scar, and leans until her forehead touches his. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But I meant what I said at my parents’— no more secrets.”

“Aye, love.”

He’s still so anxious, his body humming. “What can I do?” she asks.

He shakes his head against her too quickly. “I don’t know. Just—” he heaves out a heavy sigh before wrapping both arms around her middle and pulling her onto his lap. Her bare feet wrap around his middle and her arms reach under his until they link behind his back. “Bloody hell,” he whispers against her neck. He’s holding onto her so fervently and with such sentiment that she isn’t surprised that she can’t see his face—he refuses to show it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers back. She kisses his chest where her face lies against it. “I love you.”

He squeezes her for more time than she can keep track of, his breath evening out and his muscles finally stilling in his skin. After a few more moments, his nose nuzzles into her neck and his arms begin to move up and down her back, heating her skin under the jacket she didn’t bother to take off. She squeezes him back, pressing her chest to his and feeling his pulse slow in her ear. Eventually, they shift, and she finds herself on her side, Killian lying to face her with his head pressed against her heart as she combs her fingers through his thick hair.

“We’ve,” he starts, but his voice is thick with emotion, so he clears his throat. “We’ve been through too much. I’ve lost you so many times already. I’m not willing to do so again over some prophesy that we can’t even confirm is true.”

“I know,” she whispers. Killian doesn’t need to tell her why he’s affected by the prophesy of her death so deeply. His extensive history of loss and pain fuels his terror. “It’s okay.”

“Just…” he starts, then sighs heavily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to attack you like that, I just… I needed a hug.” She leans to press her lips to his head and nods against it.

“I know.”


	5. Feeling The Loss Of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Feeling the loss of time as the nights get longer and days get shorter.

Emma misses summer. She misses spending her days in a bikini on the beach while Killian cleans his boat; she misses spending the weekends camping with her friends and listening to Killian’s snores from the next tent; she misses sitting on the deck with Killian and drinking lemonade, watching as he makes a fool out of himself trying to fix the siding on Granny’s house.

It’s fall now, and she can no longer spend her days outside in the sun longing for him. She still longs for him of course, she always will. But now she has to do so without the added bonus of seeing his bare chest in his swim trunks, or the heat from the sun along the bridge of his nose, or the twinkle in his eyes as they reflect off the sea.

Now she has to long for him on the weekends in jeans and sweaters and boots. The jeans don’t quite hug his ass as well as the swim trunks did, and the sweaters don’t quite tighten over his biceps as well as the t-shirts did, but she’s never minded that before. In the eight years that she’s been in love with him, she’s never minded the way the clothes he wears fit him.

The days are getting shorter. They used to spend nearly every waking hour together laughing and smiling, and now she’s missing the time she spent with him while the sun bounces off of his shiny thick hair. With fall arriving, he’s gone back to his classes and she’s gone back to working with David. Now, she has to adjust to the smoky smell that clings to his clothes the morning after a fire with their friends, after she falls asleep on his bed above the covers and he lets her stay. She has to adjust to the redness in his cheeks while he rakes Granny’s yard on Sundays being due to the cold air rather than the hot sun. She wants so badly to bury her face in his sweater and inhale the scent of him mixed with pinewood smoke and to kiss those rosy cheeks and warm them up.

The pain she feels each evening as the sun goes down is nearly unbearable. Every night when the moon rises and the air turns colder, she thinks of summer. She thinks of him. She spends almost every weekend with her friends, and he’s almost always there, but she holds in sobs at the pain of seeing him so infrequently now that summer is over. She misses him so much.

During a fire one night, as she aches for the warm air and long hours of summer, she nearly breaks when she allows herself to imagine being held by him to combat the cold evening air and makes her way into Mary Margaret’s house. When she gets inside, she rests her head against the high-top counter and lets out a heavy sigh, almost failing at holding in the sob that threatens to break through her lips. She’s practically shaking with how badly she wants to be held by him; it’s as if she can imagine his hand running up and down her back to comfort her.

She nearly does sob when she realizes that this feeling is not her imagination, as she turns around and sees his ocean blue eyes staring into her. “What’s wrong, Swan?” he asks tenderly.

She shakes her head and pulls away from him, brushing the tears that have fled from her eyes. “Nothing.”

“You’ve been off for weeks, love. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. It’s like every weekend we have a great time, but every night something happens to you and you become so… so upset. What’s wrong?”

“I’m turning into a vampire,” she jokes, and he smiles so brightly that she nearly dies. It’s true, what he says. Every night as the sun goes down earlier and earlier, she thinks about the summer when they were so close for so many hours a day and she mourns.

“Come on, Swan. You can tell me anything.”

She nods, because she knows that theoretically, he’s right. But realistically, she can’t tell him this. She can’t tell him that she’s been in love with him since middle school. That seeing him with Milah nearly destroyed her, so much that she tried to drown her sorrows in Neal. That now that the two of them are both single, she doesn’t know how to move on.

They had years to get together, and the timing never worked out. If she tried now, she knows it would be too late—they’ve been friends for too long.

“I miss you,” she finally mumbles, and he turns her around so that her back is against the counter and she’s facing him. When she sees his perfectly manicured scruff, she melts against him.

“I miss you too, Swan. But we still see each other each weekend.”

“I know.”

He lifts a hand and strokes her face gently, and she thinks another tear falls from her lashes and he catches it. “What’s really wrong,” he whispers.

She shakes her head, sniffling as her chest clenches at the feeling of him being so close to her, yet never close enough. She lets out a soft sob as he leans down towards her and presses his forehead to hers. Both hands come up to either side of her face, thumbs running along her cheek bones as he whispers, “please talk to me.”

She wants to wrap her arms around his torso and press him close to her. She wants to breathe in the heavy scent of bonfire on his clothes and in his hair. She wants to kiss him and tell him that she loves him. She sinks into him as much as she dares to, almost letting herself get lost in her delusion that he may love her back, before pressing her hands against the front of his shoulders and sliding away from him.

“I can’t,” she insists weakly, making her way to a cupboard and shakily taking out a glass.

“Swan.”

She holds the glass under the sink and fills it, taking an unsteady sip from it as he watches from around the corner of the counter. She’s panting as the pulls the glass from her mouth, holding it as the water nearly sloshes over the sides. He strides to her and takes it from her hands, placing it down on the counter.

Before she knows what’s happening, she’s being lifted from the ground and placed on the counter. He’s standing so close to her, his hips between her legs, that she thinks she might not survive through the night to the sunrise she looks forward to.

“Ever since I went back to classes, you’ve been distant. Whenever we see each other on the weekends it’s like you're barely here. You're off in your own world, Swan. Why won’t you let me in? You know I’ve always wanted to be in your world with you, why are you pushing me away now?”

“Because! I—” _ugh_. She can’t.

“What?” he says with a bit too much force, and it’s as if the vigor of his voice pushed the words out of her.

“I can’t lose you! I’m trying so hard to be happy with what we have, okay? I can’t risk losing you.”

“Over what, Swan? Why the hell do you think you would lose me?”

Her fingers are tingling. Her chest feels so heavy. She has a headache from holding in tears and furrowing her brow.

“Why aren’t you happy with what we have?”

“I am, I am,” she says through a cry, her voice feeble. “I just… I just want…”

He moves his hands to her face again, his forehead nearly touching hers. “What do you want, Swan?” he asks, his voice low and grumbling in his chest.

“You,” she says, thoughts abandoning her.

Before she knows what’s hit her, his lips are on hers and he’s kissing her with such ferocity that she can hardly breathe. His hand snakes around her head and into her hair while the other slides down her side and rests on her rear, pulling her closer to him. she finally wraps her arms around his middle, clutching him close to her and practically weeping as his tongue pokes out of his mouth and against her own.

“Bloody hell, woman,” he finally says, breaking away from her enough to speak, but not so much that she can’t still feel his lips moving along hers. “You're impossible.”

She pulls farther away from him and looks into his eyes, knowing that he must regret it. “I’m sorry,” she starts.

“Are you mad, Swan?”

“I think so,” she stutters as she pulls attempts to get down. Before she can, he’s kissing her again.

“I love you,” he says as he breaks away. Her heart has stopped.

“ _What?”_

“I _love_ you,” he repeats, kissing her once more, chastely.

“You do?”

“Aye.”

She can’t respond reasonably. She starts to laugh. He laughs too, falling forward towards her again and kissing her.

“You love me?”

“I love you.”

“What the hell?” she laughs. “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on tumblr a while ago but I forgot to upload it here!


	6. Dancing and Cuddling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Can we please have Emma and Killian with #7 and #11 for the touch prompt? I love you're writing!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place in the It's About Bloody Time universe- I highly recommend reading those first! This is an addition to Don't Need To Be Here.

The music swells over the sounds of the erupting fireworks as he holds Emma closely in his arms and sways with her. He can’t stop touching her, kissing her head, running his arms up and down her back. Her arms are wrapped around his middle and he thinks that if she squeezes him any harder, he won’t make it to the wedding. Their wedding.  
He knew she would say yes; they’ve been talking about this for months. When Corrine turned two, David asked him what the hell he was waiting for. But things have just been going so well for them that he never really felt the need to change anything. He brought up her father’s comment casually, and she laughed it off and said, “what does he mean? Maybe I’ll be the one to propose to you.”  
The threat set his plans in motion. He swiftly informed her parents of his intentions to marry her, asked Henry for his blessing, and took him with him to choose the ring. He chose to wait a bit longer than he originally planned to in order to keep her on her toes, because he knew that a part of her was expecting him to ask her from the moment he brought it up over a year ago.

When Corrine’s third birthday rolled around, he knew he had gotten to her based on the way she snarled at him all evening. She was realizing that a full year had passed from their original conversation and he still hadn’t asked or even brought it up. He needed to get his ass moving before she made good on her threat and asked him herself, so he spoke with David about Storybrooke’s annual Fourth of July celebration and arranged for her favorite food to be served and for her favorite song to come on as he asked her to take a walk with him down the beach.

“I knew you were gonna do it eventually,” she says into his chest, as if she’s reading his mind.

“Aye? Did you know I was going to do it today?” He cuddles his nose into her hair and kisses her temple.

“Not until you asked me to walk with you.”

He couldn’t stop himself from backing up slightly and kissing her even if he tried. “Are you happy?” he asks in a whisper against her mouth.

She nods, her nose running alongside his. “Cuddle me,” she insists. “This is my favorite song.” 

“I know.”

He draws her close again and moves slowly with her. Maybe they’ll perfect a waltz for the wedding itself, but for tonight, her realm’s version of dancing is a perfect conclusion to a perfect day.


	7. Is That a Smile?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Winterbaby89 requested this on tumblr like months ago and I finally got around to writing it :/

She rolls her eyes, throwing the blanket off of herself and struggling off of the couch, angrily shooing him when he tries to help. “This is your fault.” 

He hums as he follows her towards the kitchen. “Aye, I know,” he says as she waddles to the fridge. “But I think it’ll be rather worth it.” 

“Whatever,” she grumbles, grabbing for the carton of eggs and shoving it towards him with just a touch too much aggression. “Can I have some eggs?”

With a smirk, he says, “Yes, would you like me to make them for you?” 

“You know that’s what I want,” she says while rolling her eyes again. “You have to do what I want; I’m pregnant with your child.”

He takes the carton from her and gingerly moves her away from the fridge so he can grab the milk and cheese, knowing exactly how she likes her eggs without her having to tell him. At this point, he should; she hasn’t been wanting to eat much else in the last few weeks. “I know, love,” he consoles as he expertly cracks an egg into a bowl with one hand. It shouldn’t be as hot as he makes it. “Have I told you lately how grateful I am?”

She shakes her head. At nearly seven months pregnant, she’s barely had a moment in which she wasn't suffering from sciatica, and she hasn’t been shy about telling him how much it’s bothering her. “Not since this morning.” 

“Well,” he chuckles, putting down the whisk and making his way over to her to place a hand on her bump. “Allow me to say: our family is the most beautiful blessing I could ever imagine for myself and I am endlessly grateful for all that you’ve done for us. I couldn’t imagine my life any other way than what we’ve made it.” 

Despite her horrible mood and the sharp pain shooting down her leg, she manages a small smile as she leans her forehead against his. Instead of responding verbally, she gives him a small grunt. 

“Have I entered an alternate universe, or did you really just crack a smile for me?” he jests, never shy about poking fun at her endless torment and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. 

“Don’t push it,” she warns against his mouth, though she can’t exactly stop the smile from spreading as he runs his fingers over her bump. 

“I love you,” he says, his joking tone suddenly gone and replaced with the fierce adoration she knows he has for her. 

“I know,” she responds quietly. “I love you too. And I love when you make me eggs.” 

With a roaring laugh, he steps back and returns to his whisk.


	8. Ice Skating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an anonymous person asked for an ice skating prompt and said, "is Killian confident on every form of water?" lol (the answer is no)

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Swan?” he asks timidly, his usual sense of cockiness suddenly melting away as Emma is sure he wishes the ice would. 

“Of course it is. I’m surprisingly good at this.” 

“The lass only just learned to walk, love.” 

She rolls her eyes at his continued attempts to get out of forced family fun. Honestly, he was the one to suggest that the four of them spend more time together as their relationship blooms. “Come on,” she says, noting how far ahead Henry and Corrine have found themselves despite her short gait. “If your baby can do it, then you're definitely gonna do it.” 

“It just seems rather dangerous to go out on thin ice wearing nothing but bladed boots.” 

She chuckles at him, squeezing his hand and tugging him just a bit to pick up his pace. “The ice isn’t thin, it’s been approved safe by the fire station. And I thought you were comfortable with a blade?”

“One that I hold in my hand, yes.” 

When they finally catch up to Henry and Corrine, him sitting patiently on the bench and watching as she seems to be attempting to build some sort of snow sculpture, Emma takes a seat and unties the laces of her skates so that she can separate them. “Sit,” she says to Killian, gesturing next to herself. “I’ll help you get them tied nice and tight.” 

He grumbles something unintelligible as he sits beside her and begins to remove his modern but still somehow piratey boots before struggling to slip on the tight skates. He ends up stomping his feet into the snow, slicing into the fluffy white ground in an attempt to get them on all the way. “Here,” she says, reaching down and pulling the tongue so that it sits properly, and she sees him relax with comfort as the skates finally fit him. 

He grumbles a thank you and begins to try the laces while Emma helps Corrine with her own, but he’s holding in curses and grumbling in annoyance in a matter of moments, and Henry huffs as he stands and glides onto the ice gracefully. “Bloody hell,” he mumbles into the cold air, his breath escaping in a puff of fog. 

“Help,” Corrine says, noting her father’s struggles and pulling on Emma’s hand. “Help duddy.” 

“I’ll help daddy if you sit on his lap and calm him down,” she barters, smiling down at her sweet, empathetic daughter and her seemingly endless desire to help people. 

He sighs when Emma picks the baby up (able to balance on her skates in the snow better than she thinks he’ll be able to) from the ground and plops her into his lap. “Hi,” she says, turning to face him and potentially doing damage to his femoral artery with the blade of her left skate. 

His face twists up as he moves her foot away from his leg, then says, “Hi, darling. You're going to teach me how to skate?” 

“I skate,” she confirms, lifting her chubby, mitten-covered hands to squish his cheeks. “You?”

“Aye,” he mumbles out through his scrunched up mouth. “I suppose so.” 

Once his laces are tight enough to provide the ankle support he needs, she slaps the top of his skates and grins cheerfully up at them. “Ready?” 

“Me!” Corrine shouts, trying to get off of her father’s lap without thought for her current level of stabbiness. 

“Are you sure it’s safe for her?” he asks as he rubs his thigh where she poked him.

“Killian, Henry and I went skating a million times in New York while I was pregnant with her. She was born for this.” Try as she might, she knows she won't be able to quell his worries for their child, nor his worries for himself. 

He isn’t too bad at balancing, likely due to his centuries worth of practice standing on slick ship decks. She’s pleasantly surprised to see him even step out onto the ice rather than staying back and pouting like she half expected him to do. But she thinks that once he saw Corrine expertly gliding across the ice after only a few minutes of instruction from Emma and Henry, he knew he would never live it down if he didn’t try. 

He lands on his ass several times, and quite hard. After just a few moments, he’s rubbing a hand over his lower back, and she feels bad about whatever damage he may have done. He’s an old man, as she often forgets, and his bones probably aren’t happy with the assault they’ve taken. It’s no matter, though; Corrine starts fussing over not being able to pet a dog that sits across the pond, and Emma knows it’s time to get and avoid a full blown tantrum. She may only be 18 months old, but she’s settling into her Terrible Twos phase expertly. 

“Come on,” she says to him when he falls a final time, not even attempting to get up this time and letting his legs flop open in defeat. “We need to get you two some cocoa before you both combust.” 

He grumbles something about not being a child as Corrine grumpily yet gracefully glides over to him, plopping herself into his lap in a way that instantly wipes the snarl from his face. “You mummy says we need cocoa,” he says softly to her as she makes herself comfortable. She can’t imagine how cold his ass is getting. “Would you like some?”

“With cream,” she insists, her fascination with whipped cream coming out of the pressurized can a new one. 

“Of course,” he confirms, helping her to stand and struggling up himself before they can struggle their way off of the ice. 

When their skates are off and they're heading back towards Granny’s, Corrine giggling away as Henry chases her along the sidewalk, Killian takes her hand in his and gives a gentle squeeze. With a glance up at him, she sees a soft smile dancing over his lips and a joyous sparkly in his bright blue eyes. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asks him, squeezing his hand back.

“Oh, it was awful,” he says seriously. “My arse will be bruised for a week.” 

She snorts and bumps his shoulder with hers as Corrine and Henry round the corner to Granny’s, disappearing through the door and likely claiming their favorite booth. “You’ll have to ice it.” 

“Ice was the cause of the problem, love. I think what I need is some tender love and care.” 

“Is that so?” she asks, turning to wrap her arms around his waist and pull herself close to him, grinning up as he gives his rear a hearty squeeze. 

“Swan!” he cries, squeezing her back and tickling her softly until she giggles. “Very rude,” he complains against her lips.

“You're right, I’m sorry,” she says, kissing him back and letting her hands slide up and under his jacket. “I’ll have to make it up to you after--” 

They're interrupted by a forceful and urgent thumping sound, and when Emma breaks away from him and looks up, she sees Corrine’s irritated face and her tiny fists slamming against the window beside them.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr for more @elizabeethan


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